


i love you, don't you mind, don’t you mind?

by goodcliche



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Coming Out, Depression, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, suicide attempt (referenced)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodcliche/pseuds/goodcliche
Summary: They meet at a lakeside camping in France.
Relationships: Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	i love you, don't you mind, don’t you mind?

**Author's Note:**

> hi, and welcome to my first ever dnp fic ! this was partially written for katie (@/2009fantasies on twitter), and partially written because i've been reading /a lot/ of dnp fic lately and like to project my own daydreams and fantasies (of how i wish my own summer holidays would go) in fiction.
> 
> title from ‘me’ by the 1975
> 
> hope you enjoy x

The first time Dan met Phil, he was sixteen, pretty depressed, and sitting on the edge of a lake dock with water coming up to his calves. A beach ball had bounced against his legs and was soon followed by a boy swimming over. He had said “sorry” and flashed him a smile, before throwing the ball towards another boy slightly in the distance. The ball didn’t even go halfway, because it weighed pretty much nothing and the wind tried to carry it away as soon as no one was holding it anymore. The boy had also said “I’m Phil, you can join me and my brother, if you’d like?” but Dan had shaken his head no and the boy swam away. 

He did watch them though. Pushed his hands down on the edge of the dock as hard as he could and stared at the two boys attempting to run through shallow water, hitting the ball back and forth. He watched them jump and laugh and splash at each other as if nothing in the world could ever make them happier than just that; a crowded lake on a shitty camping in fucking France, of all places.

The ball drifted over to him three more times while he was there; the first of which the boy, Phil, just snatched it away and, after glancing at Dan for only a second, ran back to his brother. The second time, it had drifted towards Dan’s feet and when Phil approached, he gave him a reluctant smile and kicked it in his direction. It didn’t go far, but Phil _did_ smile at him and Dan had thought _I like it when you smile_. 

The third time, Dan had been about to leave, one foot back on the dock already. When the ball drifted over and neither Phil nor his brother immediately came bouncing after it; both just watching (like he had been watching them, Dan realised), he sighed and dipped into the cold water. It had been the first time since arriving here that he had done that- actually go into the water. He had to admit to himself that it was nice. Refreshing, even, like his parents told him again and again after they had come back from a swim. He had walked over to the beach ball and, with it in hand, towards Phil.

“You didn’t- uh, here’s your ball.” He almost pushed it into his hands and stalked out of the water. He thought about fully submerging himself into the lake, sitting down on the bottom and waiting for his head to get fuzzy and he was forced to come back up to breathe. He didn’t; he sat down on his towel and tried not to look at the brothers, who were already hitting the ball back and forth again. He walked away not long after.

It took him three days to take up on Phil’s offer and join him and his brother in hitting the beach ball back and forth. It also took him three days to swim again; to go into the water further than up to his calves, and he supposed it was nice; refreshing. It helped with the heat more than sitting in the shadow did.

His parents confronted him about his new friend that night. They were really excited for him, happy that he’d actually gone swimming and done something other than complain about the lack of internet or sit by the dock staring at nothing and everything. Dan had thought _please don’t ruin this for me_ , even though _he_ was only person who ruined things for himself.

He didn’t speak to Phil the next day, but every time he looked over, Phil would shoot him the biggest grin and wave, and Dan would smile back. He didn’t think he’d smiled like this in months. Years, maybe.

Those two weeks of summer consisted of shared pizza on the dock, both their feet dangling in the water. Of small conversation about where they were from and who they were here with and school and video games and music. Dan had almost pushed Phil into the water when he asked, “so can you play me something on the piano sometime?” because _no,_ he hadn’t played in years and besides, there wasn’t even a piano on the camping grounds.

“Wait you’re in _uni_?” he had asked Phil at one point. Phil had laughed, shook his head and stuck out his tongue a little, biting down on it.

“Well, yeah,” and upon Dan’s wide eyes, “come on, how old did you think I was, _sixteen_?”

“ _I’m_ sixteen.”

“Oh.”

The silence didn’t last long.

“But. I don’t know. Maybe not... sixteen, but… uni seems so far away. Everyone has their life together by then and knows what they wanna do and I just… don’t...”

“I’m twenty,” Phil said, looking at the water now, his feet swinging back and forth through it. 

Dan pushed his hands onto the edges of the dock harder, but found that he didn’t have it in him to properly grip them, tense up his arms and shoulders and back. He glanced at Phil, a little grin forming on his lips, before commenting “Grandpa.”

“Baby.”

“Hey!” He pushed his foot in the water, splashing them both.

Later, after they’d tried to wrestle each other into the water and both failed; after a silence that could have been anywhere been two and fifty minutes, Dan looked at Phil only to find the latter was already looking back at him. 

“Hm?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Phil replied. But he didn’t look away, and his smile only grew bigger, and Dan looked down to their feet in the water, their thighs, just barely touching. The lake was calm, as there was almost no wind, and he could see the trees and the stars and the clouds above reflecting in it.

“Phil?” He started, yet again.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve smiled more these past few days than I have in the past months.”

Phil had said, after a small silence, “Well, I’m really happy for you,” and Dan had rested his head on his shoulder, still staring at the lake and the trees and the clouds and the stars.

The night before Phil left, they hugged goodbye and Dan hadn’t felt so safe in a hug since he was a little boy, climbing into his nana’s bed after a particularly bad nightmare. He wished he didn’t have to let go, that he could live in this summer forever. Dan stared and waved at every car that left the camping site the next day, not knowing which one his friend was in.

They had exchanged their email addresses with a promise to stay in touch, but neither of them ever had the actual courage to press ‘send’. Dan had tried, a couple times, had drafts in his mailbox, all consisting of a variation on “Hey, it’s Dan. You know, from France. At the camping.”. There had been a longer one, in which he wrote that he missed Phil, and that he hoped they could meet again someday, but he had deleted it a couple days after writing it. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time they met was a summer later, on the same camping site in France, where Dan was, yet again, sitting on the dock with his feet in the water, staring at the little waves of movement caused by him moving his feet, and the bigger, barely there waves caused by people in the distance, swimming.

“ _Dan_?” Phil had asked from inside the water, all stunned disbelief and big eyes and arms raised in a forgotten action. This time not with a beach ball flying away, but standing with his brother and a red-haired girl. He’d been staring, but that was okay because Dan stared at him, too.

“ _Phil_?” 

He swam over to the dock then, abandoning his brother and the girl, and asked “What, you come here every year or something?” and Dan nodded.

“Mum and dad liked it here last year, so we’ll probably not go anywhere else for the next ten years.”

“I’ve literally spent every summer here since I was like, seven or something,” Phil said, before following up with “How are you?”. 

“I’m...” _Fine, good, wonderful_ , and all the other lies he could come up with, “I’ve been better.” He shrugged, stared at Phil in the water, kinda swimming back and forth even though Dan was positive he was standing. The sun caught in his hair and reflected on the water in that dream like way old film portrayed so well, and Dan relaxed his shoulders, stopped gripping the edges of the wood as if his life depended on it.

“You wanna go for a swim?” Phil asked him, and even though Dan wasn’t one for exercise and preferred swimming in a lake or pool only if there was a float he could lean on, he let himself dip into the water, splashed some of it in Phil’s direction and smiled at him, more genuine than he had all year.

They didn’t really swim, not for long at least, but mostly just stood in the water, swimming tiny bits back and forth. Dan liked being in water in the sense that everything felt less heavy. He would say he liked the floating, but he didn’t have enough control over his body to actually stay afloat for longer than two seconds. He liked feeling like a weight was (literally) being lifted off his shoulders the deeper he sank. Eventually, they got out and lay down on the grass.

It was the middle of summer in France and there was sun on his skin and in his eyes so as they lay next to each other, Dan might have closed his eyes and fallen asleep. 

They played a lot of Mario Kart during those three weeks. They would sit on the swings of the playground for hours, staring at the tiny screens of their DS’s, screaming too loud for a camping full of little kids trying to sleep. But they had fun, and Dan didn’t think about high school and being bullied for being gay, even though he had a girlfriend he pretended to like. He didn’t think about how earlier that year, he had sat on his bed in the dark, crying his eyes out and rebottling all his feelings. 

He didn’t feel alone that summer, and even though they technically hadn’t known each other for that long, Phil was now his best (and only) friend. He also beat him at Mario Kart round after round, even while holding a slice of pizza in one hand. He liked the pout Phil gave him after he lost another, liked the small shove in his side or the kick against his feet.

Sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, Dan had been watching the sunset reflect onto Phil’s face, the warm oranges and pinks brightening him up, as if he were on fire but not quite. He had been plucking the grass around his legs, little tugs, and letting it fall down through his fingers.

“I have a girlfriend. You know, back home.”

“Oh,” Phil said, his face going through five different emotions at once.

“I don’t like her like that, but I _do_ like getting bullied less.”

“Oh,” Phil said, again, looking back at Dan and giving him a small smile. He looked soft, like that, and Dan wished he had a proper camera and could save this moment for dark winter nights where he couldn’t feel a single thing, as a reminder that come summer, he’d be happy again. 

“Is that bad, that I’m kinda using her?”

“A little, maybe. But you can’t force feelings that aren’t there.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He was still looking at Phil’s face. At the sunset, reflected in his glasses, and at his eyelashes and the curve of his lips. “I should break up with her.”

“You probably should, yeah.”

“I don’t want to.”

“That’s okay. I once had a boyfriend that tried to force his feelings towards me. I didn’t even notice at first, but then I guess we had never really been in _love_ , so the breakup wasn’t that bad.” Phil glanced at him, before looking away and back at the sunset Dan hadn’t even given a single look since sitting down. He didn’t know why his stomach suddenly felt like he needed to throw up or why his throat seemed locked. Except he did. Of course he did.

“Oh.” 

The conversation had ended there, but in bed that night, Dan couldn’t stop replaying Phil’s “I once had a boyfriend” in his head. It made him curl up and clutch a teddy bear to his chest and bawl his eyes out in the best possible way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Summer three was the summer after A-levels and the summer before Dan’s gap year, which felt like a relief and a setback all at once. It was the summer the camping site had gotten a Wii for the kids to play on during rainy days except the gaming room was always too crowded for Dan and Phil to play a round of Mario Kart. (They snuck in past midnight and fell asleep in the early a.m.’s, lying on bean bags with too many cushions and too little blankets.) 

It was the summer they spent more time apart than together, because Dan’s parents had decided that they were _cultured_ all of sudden, which included a lot of visiting towns and cities, walking around admiring the old buildings. Dan mostly just complained on those trips, that it was too hot and that he’d rather have stayed on the camping, only for his parents to argue that that would be unfair to Adrian. He had argued back that they could both stay at the camping, but then they told him that he’d have to watch his little brother the entire time and he admitted defeat.

Summer three was also the summer Dan came out to Phil. It had been on his mind since Phil’s “I once had a boyfriend” from the year before. That Phil wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t call him names or bully him. That he’d maybe, hopefully, even understand. 

They’d been stargazing on the dock, which was extremely cliché and Dan had rolled his eyes at Phil when he suggested it. But as the minutes rolled by, and Phil pointed out various constellations dotting the sky, he grew more and more silent, to the point where he kinda wanted to cry because of how small stargazing made him feel, in both the bad and the good ways.

“Phil, I think I like boys,” he blurted out. 

In his head, he had this whole scenario of how he would tell him and when, and it didn’t involve stargazing and it didn’t involve Phil being silent for a minute and Dan not being able to keep his mouth shut. In his head, he was going to tell Phil during a conversation, maybe bring up that he broke up with that girlfriend he had last year. That he never liked her like that because he liked boys and boys only. He kept staring at the sky, and the stars seemed to move back and forth except it was just his vision that was blurry and not the universe stumbling.

“As in… _just_ boys. And I don’t _think_ I like boys, I like them. And I _don’t_ like girls.”

“So, you’re saying you’re gay?” Dan flinched at the word gay, even though liking boys and boys only was pretty much the very definition of the word. The word ‘gay’ felt like a scream, even though Phil asked him with the ghost of a smile on his face and the kindest eyes Dan had ever seen, in such a _casual_ tone he never thought he would hear anyone say it.

“I… I guess.” He fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, pulling them over his wrists. “But I don’t... ” _like that word? want to call it that? but that word inherently terrifies me because the first time I heard it I was six and shoved to the ground and kicked in my stomach so now I feel like it’s a terrible word and there’s something wrong with me, even though there seems to be nothing wrong with liking boys?_

“That’s okay,” Phil said, accepting the silence for whatever it was. “Thank you, for telling me, that must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

And Dan just nodded, looking back at Phil even though Phil’s face was, like the stars, also kinda blurry. He wanted to say, “thank you for being so nice,” or “it’s because I feel safe around you,”, but he couldn’t get either sentence out of his mouth. It was, childishly, as if someone had put a lock around his throat, turned it, and thrown the key into the lake. 

So, when Phil held his arms out and raised one eyebrow, Dan wordlessly slid in his embrace, and rested his head on Phil’s chest and held him tight around his waist. Phil would protect him from all the empty, good, and bad feelings that looking up at the night sky gave him. He felt safe here, with arms around his shoulders and fingers drawing smooth circles just below. 

He squeezed his eyes shut because tears started streaming out and whispered “thank you” even though he wasn’t sure Phil could hear him. 

His little brother, when Dan, smiling, entered their tent at six am that morning, teased “Ooooo, did you do it with a girl last night?” and made smacking noises, only to exclaim “Oh, wait, no, you only hang out with that _boy_ , what, you’re not _gay_ , right?” and Dan had turned around in his sleeping bag and cried for very different reasons.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fourth summer they reunited with a bone crushing hug that almost sent both of them flying to the ground. It would have been a sight that turned heads, had there been anyone around to look at them. Dan clung on more to Phil than he’d like to admit, held on for longer than he thought he was going to.

“I missed you.” Were the first words he said, the sound muffled against Phil’s shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie. 

“Good. Missed you too.” 

“You _did_ ?” Dan leaned out of the embrace out of surprise. He wasn’t exactly sure _why_ he was surprised, because summers on the shitty camping in France with Phil were amazing and all he looked forward to throughout the year, and it wasn’t weird that they made Phil happy as well, nor was there any denying they were great friends, but _he_ was usually the one to actually _say_ it, not Phil.

“Of course I did, dummy.”

“Oh.”

“What?” Phil was smiling at him. 

“Nothing.” Dan shook his head, slightly embarrassed. “Can I hug you again? I feel awkward now.”

“You can always hug me,” Phil said, already slotting his arms around Dan’s waist.

“Good. I rather enjoy hugging you.”

“Nice.”

“Excellent.”

“Amazing.” Phil poked Dan’s side, made him screech and actually physically jump up, despite their tight embrace. 

“Lovely.”

“Perfect.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“And yet you’re laughing.”

“True.” 

They both dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Dan, despite laughing so much his eyes automatically shut close, couldn’t stop looking at Phil. At how, when he laughed, he bit down on his tongue just a little. At how it lit up his whole face and how pretty he was and how it reminded him of the first time they met, when he had thought _I like it when you smile_ and how in this moment, he thought, _I love it when you laugh_.

“I like it when you laugh,” he told him.

“I like your dimples.”

“My _dimples?_ ” He had never heard anybody say that before.

“Yeah, they’re really cute.” And for some reason, the word _cute_ made him smile in a way those dimples were probably even more visible, made him blush in a way he was glad that the sun had mostly set. (He knew the reason. He had spent all goddamn year overthinking said reason and shoving said reason away and claiming it didn’t exist.)

“Hey, Phil?” Said reason of making him blush apparently also made him feel brave.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

And thus, summer four became the summer of their first kiss. Of Phil slowly nodding whispering “yeah” and pressing his fingers against the small of his back. Of Dan leaning in, not breaking eye contact till the last moment, looking at Phil’s lips and back up at his eyes as to give him a way out. As if to say _you can turn back still, you don’t have to just because I asked_ , but Phil didn’t back out and Dan pressed his lips slowly against his.

He was glad there were arms around him, because as soon as Phil kissed him back, he practically melted. His hand, that had been cupping Phil’s cheek, slowly slid down his neck and came to a halt on his shoulder, while his other had already been slung around Phil’s neck. There were steady hands on either side of his waist, gripping him tight as he leaned back a little, giving way and moving wherever Phil lead him.

It felt like drowning, but in the best way possible. It was the kind of helplessness, the kind of being taken care of and fully melting into someone’s touch, that no other kiss had ever made him feel. His chest ached for more, heart thumping louder than he thought was possible from happiness, and he smiled. He smiled so hard into the kiss it was hard to kiss back, but that didn’t really matter, because Phil’s lips were on his and Phil’s hands were on his waist and he had never felt this happy, this safe, before.

It didn’t last long, but it might as well have, for he was breathless. With his eyes still closed and the impossible smile still on his lips, he tangled a finger around a pluck of longer hair at the end of Phil’s neck. There was a gentle kiss pressed to his nose, and he opened his eyes to be met with Phil’s, which were dancing in the moonlight, sparkling brighter than the stupid stars in the night sky and Dan laughed and kissed him again. 

They kissed a lot that summer. Not in public, of course, but under moonlit skies and in empty gaming rooms. Dan, despite being afraid of the dark, had come to cherish those early a.m.’s. In which he would feel like he was drowning, over and over again.

Moments in which Phil’s hands were steady on his waist, or his back, or his legs and sometimes even his ass. In which they would roam his chest and grip his chin and his hair in some sort of desperation, would twist Dan’s hair into its natural curly form. And Dan? Dan was hopelessly lost in touches, clung on to bits of Phil and let himself completely relax and fling his arms loosely around his waist or his neck and kiss, kiss, kiss until he had to lean back for breath.

It was the summer of midnight swims in a freezing cold lake, of locking legs around waists and leaning back and just floating for minutes with fingers on their hips. Of looking at the stars and Dan trying to recount the constellations Phil had taught him, messing up and asking for a kiss of forgiveness. The summer of shared pizza on the dock with their legs more than barely touching. The summer of laughs and “shut up” and “make me”’s. 

Throughout the days, they hung out as much as they could, which, in Dan’s case, again, wasn’t as much as he wanted to, as his parents were still on about the _culture_ thing, and because they’d discovered the closest towns and hikes last year, each was a longer and longer drive away from the camping site. 

Nights were spent at the lake, the gaming room with the Wii, Phil’s tent, or just loitering in the playground, crammed together on one of those spider web-like swings he was sure of had an actual name, despite not knowing it. They talked or kissed until they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore and even then, with their eyes closed, they refused to fall asleep just yet.

It was in one of those sleepy moments that Dan asked Phil: “Hey, guess where I’m going to uni?”

“Hm?” Phil was too busy drawing circles on Dan’s hipbone, leaving a trail of kisses on his chest, to really take a guess. Dan let out a sigh, and reached for Phil’s chin, holding it up so Phil actually looked at him, and smiled.

“Manchester.”

“Really?” Phil kissed him, placed his elbows on either side of his head and put his knee down on the air mattress, just between Dan’s legs, where it had been lying all along.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, pulling Phil closer and fully indulging in the soft kiss he gave him, so different from the desperate one hours ago, and yet exactly as perfect.

“So why Manchester?”

“’m Gonna do law, their program seemed good, and it’s far away from home.”

“Law?” Phil broke the kiss, cocking his head to the side. Dan didn’t like the frown on his face. Didn’t like the questioning look he gave him, the furrow in his brows. He tensed his shoulders, turned his head, looked away from Phil’s face. “Why _law_?”

“It just...” he bit down on his lip, “It just kinda seems like the thing to do. Show my parents that I _am_ capable of actually achieving something good, rather than spending my days gaming or watching videos on YouTube.”

Phil was now the one dragging a finger across Dan’s chin, turning his head back to him with the slightest amount of pressure. The furrow in his brow was gone, or at least almost, and he didn’t look questioning anymore, rather a bit concerned. 

“Okay.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Dan let his eyes flutter shut at the contact; let his shoulders release the build-up tension and let another sigh escape his lips. “Not that there’s anything wrong with watching gaming and watching YouTube, just so you know.”

“See, that’s where my parents would disagree with you.”

“Dan. It’s okay. Just make sure you’re doing something that you do for _you as_ well, okay?”

“Like kissing you?”

“Yeah,” Phil sighed, “sure.” And then pressed his lips back onto Dan’s.

When, in the mornings, Dan would come back to his own shared tent with his little brother, and he got another suggestive question thrown at him, he just smiled, because his little brother was a lot closer to the truth than he probably suspected. He was glad his parents didn’t seem to particularly care where he spent his nights (or with who, for the matter), as long as he was there when they left for another day trip.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dan had grown accustomed to waking up with Phil next to him, to cold feet pressed against his shins, an arm slung around his waist, lips pressed to his shoulders. He had grown used to actually being able to sleep, rather than spending all night scrolling through Tumblr or Twitter, watching YouTube videos until the sun would rise.

He’d grown accustomed to summers full of happiness, sun on his skin and water between his feet, cheap wine in his stomach. He’d almost forgotten what sleepless, lonely nights in cold and rainy England felt like. It might, technically speaking, still be summer, but the fifteen degrees Celsius, howling wind, and cracking thunder suggested otherwise. There were also, unlike during those happy summers in France with Phil, no stars in the night sky. No constellations for him to point out, get wrong, and for Phil to correct by threading his fingers through Dan’s and moving their arms to the right stars. 

He barely slept, that first week back. His parents didn’t notice, because of course they didn’t, but his little brother did. Which surprised him; they’d never really been close. Maybe it was the looming future of him moving away to university that made his brother suddenly more attached to him, but even that didn’t make sense in Dan’s head. So, when his little brother crept into his room at midnight and propped himself right next to Dan, watching as he typed, he was more than a little shocked.

“Adrian. Go the fuck back to bed, what are you doing here?” He closed his laptop, not all too keen on showing a twelve-year-old his Tumblr, and frowned at him. “Well? Shoo. This is my bed.”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” 

“Why haven’t I- what are you _doing here_? It’s like four am!” He leaned over to put his laptop on the floor next to him and cocked his head at Adrian, who did the exact same thing in reply. 

“We didn’t have this weather on holiday...”

“No,” Dan looked outside the window, “we didn’t.”

“You’ll… still go with us next year, right? To France? Even though you’re moving out now?” The sheets shifted under his Adrian’s movement, and so did Dan’s gaze. He smiled at him.

“Of course I will. I’ve never been happier than on summer holiday in France.”

“Is that because of your friend?”

“Yeah. I guess,” Dan whispered. He looked down and fiddled with the sheets, patted them down twice to distract himself from the blush on his cheeks, from the memories of Phil’s hands all over his body, the endless kisses and kisses and _kisses_.

“Do you miss him? Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?” 

“Maybe. I’m sure you miss your friends as well.”

“Yeah.” Adrian reached out and put his arms around Dan, and he didn’t even have it in him to roll his eyes at him or shove him out of his personal space. Instead, he hugged him back. He wasn’t sure when he did that last. Maybe he never had. They weren’t the closest of brothers, after all. “Dan?”

“Hm?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Dan froze; was pretty sure his heart stopped beating for a second, before regaining his posture and breathing out, head on top of his little brother’s.

“No, he isn’t. Don’t be silly, Adrian.” He dropped down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now, the rain and thunder have stopped, back to your own room you go.”

Minutes later, alone in his bed again, he was still shaking, not even able to pick up his laptop from the tremble in his hands. The rain tick, tick, ticked on his window again, but for the first time since getting back from France, he fell asleep without a laptop in his lap or alcohol in his veins.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Moving to Manchester made him even more lonely than he already had been. There had been a stupid spark of hope in his chest, for the first two or so weeks, foolishness that maybe he’d actually see Phil and that, if he did, it’d lead to something. It didn’t, because he never saw Phil. Manchester was a big city, after all, and they were just two people. Loneliness was easily dealt with, though. A couple kisses here, a couple hands there, and before he knew it Dan was lying in some random guy’s room with his eyes closed, a squeaking mattress beneath him and short breaths above him. 

As expected, he absolutely detested his law course, and skipped most of his classes. He never quite missed deadlines, though, because guilt forced him to pull all-nighters writing up essays worth of bullshit for assignments he somehow never managed to completely fail. The majority of the time he spent in bed. Whether that be sleeping, scrolling through Tumblr, or getting his sense fucked out of him. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do.

He first saw Phil again in October. It was a student night out, and his flatmates had dragged him along to find him a nice girl to spend the night with, because, according to them, he could use someone to cheer him up. He’d rolled their eyes but let them because, after all, that stupid little spark of hope was still there, no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was stupid. 

It wasn’t, that night. He’d been about an hour and half, and five drinks in when he saw Phil. And he couldn’t stop staring at him. It probably creeped the guys he was with out, but his mind couldn’t stop going _Philphilphilphilphil_ and _France_ and _it wasn’t a dream_ and _fuck, Phil_. Sometimes he wondered if he was genuinely going crazy and if he had made Phil up and should belong in a psych ward. Sometimes, that was the only explanation he could come up with for his happiness during those summers. And yet Phil was here. Standing meters away from him with a beer in his hand and a smile on his face and people around him and Dan couldn’t fucking stop staring.

“Excuse me,” he muttered to his flatmates, and stood up, taking his half empty beer with him and shoving past people until he was standing in front of Phil. His heart was racing and people were staring at him but _Phil_ was one of those people and alcohol really did its nickname of liquid courage justice and he just breathed out “Phil.”

“Dan.” Phil’s eyes were big and they were staring and he seemed frozen along with the people surrounding him but he was looking at _Dan_ and downed his drink in one go and nodded sideways and Dan _followed_ , let his own cup slide out of his hands and make a mess on the already beer stained floor. He followed Phil until they were standing outside in the cold and he supposed he should’ve felt cold except he hadn’t felt this warm since summer.

There was one beat, one moment where they looked away from each other and Dan looked at Phil through his lashes and his heart started aching. And then there were arms around him and lips pressed to the top of his forehead for the smallest kiss and he almost started crying because of how _warm_ it made him feel. His own hands reached for Phil’s neck, his chin, automatically and then there were lips on his and he felt himself melt, felt himself drown in the best way possible and he was glad Phil’s hands were at his waist because surely his legs were going to give out.

They went back to Phil’s and only stopped their would-be-ten-minutes walk to make out against a wall or in the middle of the sidewalk four times. Phil only dropped the keys to the door of his apartment twice, because apparently having legs around your waist and pressing the person who said legs belonged to up against the door while both making out with them and also trying to unlock said door, wasn’t an easy feat. Dan didn’t mind. He thoroughly enjoyed having his legs around Phil’s waist and his arms around Phil’s neck.

He liked how Phil’s lips found their way from his mouth to his neck and how he bit down slightly. He liked how those lips on his neck made him tip his head back and close his eyes in bliss and clench his thighs around Phil’s waist. He liked how Phil was strong enough to hold him up and press him against the wall and walk around the apartment with him; he liked the hand on his ass and the hand on the small of his back and he liked how, when he tugged just right on Phil’s hair, he too would tip his back in bliss. 

He liked, very much, that he had ended up in Phil’s bed without as much as a second of doubt from since Phil had seen him.

He liked that in the matter of an hour, maybe a little less, he had gone from feeling numb to feeling like it was summer and he was in a small tent on a shitty camping by a crowded lake in France.

He liked how their clothes had formed a path from the door to Phil’s bedroom and he liked how big Phil’s hand felt on his naked body and he liked getting his sense fucked out of him in a way that made his eyes roll back into his head and that left him desperate for more despite already being ruined and done for. He liked kissing during sex and he liked gentle touches and he liked how Phil whispered his name into his ear.

He liked how, afterwards, there was not even the consideration of him not staying, of Phil asking him to leave again and Dan trudging off back to halls. He liked being tucked into colourful sheets with a body wrapped around him and cold toes against his shins. And he liked, how after Phil’s arm found itself around his waist and Dan pressed a kiss between strands of black hair, he fell into a deep, nightmare-less sleep for the first time in months.

He didn’t like it as much when he got up at the same time as the sun and slid away from Phil’s grasp (that he wished he could stay in forever) and tried to identify his clothes. It felt wrong, to not stay until Phil was awake or say bye or apologise, but he consoled himself with a green hoodie of Phil’s that he shouldn’t be taking with him because it wasn’t _his_ and it wasn’t like he was going to see Phil again until summer, knowing his luck. He lingered, wanting to tell himself _haha, just kidding_ and get rid of his clothes again and put his phone back on the floor and let himself be held and feel safe. But the microwave blinked 06:47 at him and Dan had never been the best at allowing himself the happy things, so he crept out of the apartment without waking Phil and _with_ an aching hole in his chest.

He never had the intention to actually send Phil an email, ever. That opportunity had long since passed. Phil never contacted him, so Dan didn’t either. Maybe it made him a coward. Maybe he was just scared of rejection. But in January, lying on frozen grass in a park in Manchester, watching cars go by and dog owners chase their pets, he got out his phone, opened his email and clicked on send.

He hadn’t expected Phil to show up, but then again, he had never had high expectations to begin with. The grass beneath him was long since not frozen anymore, and his jeans were long since soaked. He hadn’t moved in hours, probably. The sky had gone from clear blue to cloudy and clear again and back to passing clouds. Dogs had jumped over him and some kids had stared at him but he didn’t really react to anyone or anything.

He wanted to cry or to scream or laugh except he didn’t. So when someone lay down next to him, he also didn’t react. He ignored the movement and he ignored the fact that this person wouldn’t leave and he just continued to stare up at the clouds until the sky started blooming yellow and orange and pink. 

“Dan?” He let out a breath, still didn’t look at Phil. He grabbed onto strands of grass and tugged them out of the earth, killed them and let them fly down between his spread fingers and repeated the process two, three times. “Dan, how long have you been lying here?” 

He licked his lips, looked as far to his right as he could without moving his head. “Don’t know.”

Next to him, Phil sat up, and before Dan knew it, he was hovering over him. His eyes flicked over his body, his face; from Dan’s own eyes to his hands in the grass to his lips and to his eyes again. There was a frown, hesitance. “Are you… okay?”

“No.”

“How long have you been lying here in the grass?”

“Don’t know.” The clouds had spread out while they were talking, moving to the right and up and away, dissolving into thin air, creating more pink and longer shadows. Phil’s face was orange with a concerned frown that Dan wished wasn’t there.

“Why email me? Why _now_?”

Dan met his eyes. “I told you. I don’t think I can be alone right now.” 

“Why?” 

“Because.” He closed his eyes, tried to replace the images of bridges and rooftops and his childhood bedroom with an open bottle of sleeping pills on the sheets with summers in France and clear skies and Phil’s hand guiding his to trace constellations he hadn’t even known to exist before. He couldn’t, not quite, but he opened his eyes again nonetheless.

“Okay.” Phil’s face disappeared out of his view again, and Dan let out another breath. “If there’s anything I can do for you now, just tell me, okay?”

“Just… lie here with me,” Dan whispered.

They lay next to each other in silence long enough for the sky to lose its blush and settle for sparkling freckles instead. Long enough for Dan’s eyes to begin to hurt from the staring at the sky.

“Dan?” He turned his head to the side, looked at Phil. His eyes were a little red and he was frowning. “Have you… eaten today?”

He just shook his head ever so slightly, before returning his gaze to the sky; forcing his eyes to stay open.

“Okay. Come on,” Phil stood up and reached out, “up.” 

He stared at Phil. It wasn’t like he had another choice, really, Phil was blocking his view, but he stared at his outstretched hand as if was the top of the Mount Everest. Phil sighed. Dan flinched; looked away, felt fingers wrap around his wrist and swallowed down a protest he never had. He let Phil pull him up to a sitting position, and eventually a standing one, but didn’t meet the eyes that were looking at him. He hadn’t realised how cold he’d gotten.

“You’re shivering.” Phil dropped his wrist. “Fuck, I shouldn't have let you lie down for so long. You’ve been lying here since you sent me that email, haven’t you?”

“I wanted to. It’s fine.” 

“Dan, you might catch hypothermia.”

“It’s fine.”

“ _No_.”

“Phil?” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried to kill yourself?” 

Dan didn’t fail to see Phil’s dropping jaw and the small step back before he regained his posture. He didn’t miss how his eyes seemed way more reflective and vivid all of sudden and he definitely didn’t miss the loud and immediate “Fuck.” that left his mouth.

“I’m sorry.” He took a step back of his own.

“No.” Phil stepped forward, softened his voice. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Come on.” He grabbed his wrist again, slid his hand down until his fingers were intertwined with Dan’s ever so gently, and started walking. Dan didn’t ask where they were going. 

He wasn’t surprised they ended up at Phil’s apartment, though he barely recognised it. Last time he’d been there, Phil had been pressing him up against the door while fumbling with his keys, and Dan had been kissing him; hard. This time, he stared at the crumbling white wallpaper in the hall and watched Phil unlock his door without dropping the keys twice.

Phil looked back at him as they walked inside, gave him a soft smile and reached out for Dan’s hand again. He let him take it and squeeze it once before letting go.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he told Dan, and Dan silently followed him through the apartment and watched as he put too much bubbles into the bath. He complied when Phil’s hand undid the zipper of his heavy coat and trailed behind him again as he walked back to the hall to hang it.

“Don’t leave me alone in there,” he told Phil, and Phil wrapped his arms around him. “Please.”

“‘Course not.” He pressed a kiss to Dan’s forehead.

He watched as Phil gathered clothes from his own closet (bright yellow pyjama pants, a shirt, a hoodie which according to Phil “ is the only black hoodie I have”, and both a pair of boxers and socks) and he watched as Phil put them in a neat pile on the bathroom sink. He stared at Phil’s back when he turned around and told him he wouldn’t look as he got in the bath. Dan, in reply, told him he wasn’t “a fucking prude” and “you’ve seen me naked countless times before”, but felt the appreciation for the gesture down in his chest.

Phil sat with his back against the bath while Dan stretched his legs in the hot water. They didn’t talk, but they sat there until all of the foamy white bubbles had dissolved and all of the water’s warmth had transferred to Dan’s insides. His voice croaked as he asked Phil for a towel. Phil gave him two in response and kept his promise to not look as Dan got dressed in clothes that he didn’t quite fill out.

He ate three slices of the Domino’s to please Phil and sat in silence on the sofa. Phil was the first of them to speak, and Dan stared at his wide eyes and chewed down lips.

“Please stay the night.” He was fumbling with his hands. 

Dan toyed with the thought of saying no, just for a second.

“Okay.”

Which is how he ended up lying curled up on Phil’s bed with all of his (Phil’s) clothes on and a heavy blanket draped over him and the kindest boy he’d ever met mere centimetres away from him. He was warm and not alone anymore and his muscles relaxed in a way they hadn’t in months and all of that combined had him finally cry. In silence, just tears running down his face onto his lips and then staining sheets.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

He wanted to ask why and he wanted to say sorry for today and sorry for leaving in the morning in October but all he did was reach out and allow for Phil to move over and hold him to his chest and fall asleep.

He didn’t leave before Phil woke up, this time. In fact, he didn’t even wake up before him. The bed was empty and cold and Dan shivered, despite the multiple layers of clothes and thick duvet around him. Phil’s room looked different in the daylight, and he blinked twice against the brightness. It was messy, but Dan supposed he wasn’t allowed to judge on that; it wasn’t as if his room had been all too tidy the past weeks. 

He let Phil hug him as he said good morning and sat on the counter watching him finish making a batch of pancakes. He stayed after breakfast and lay on the couch with his head in Phil’s lap and Phil’s hands carding through his hair.

“Feeling better than yesterday?” He asked, twisting Dan’s hair around his fingers, and Dan sighed. Everything _did_ feel a little less heavy and a little less alone and he didn’t feel like doing something stupid anymore just because.

“It helps to not be alone.”

“That’s good.” Dan sighed and closed his eyes. Phil ran a thumb over his forehead. “You can always come see me if you need to not be alone again. Or if you just want to.” 

His clothes from yesterday were washed, currently in Phil’s dryer, and it all felt a bit too domestic to be his reality. He tried to banish the pit in his stomach. He was allowed this. He was allowed to wear another boy’s clothes while lying on the couch in said boy’s apartment with fingers in his hair. Even if it meant skipping more classes and ignoring his tutor’s emails asking him if he was okay. He was allowed this little bit of summer in France in the middle of winter in Manchester. 

He beat Phil at Mario Kart again and again and by the end of the day he laughed so loud it startled him. They ate curry in front of Phil’s tv, watched an episode of an anime Dan had never heard of, and there was no doubt of Dan staying another night. He lay awake listening to Phil talk about the editing job he’d taken and how good it was to live on his own again, but how he missed his mum and dad daily. Dan couldn’t relate, but found himself smiling anyhow. 

Phil talked until the sun rose and in Dan’s tired delirium he pressed his lips to Phil’s. It wasn’t making out, but Phil’s hand was on his jaw, pulling him in, and by the time they parted Dan was crying and let himself be held again. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He didn’t see Phil again until he was sitting on a dock by a lake in France again, wearing a hoodie from a university he never even visited. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, but still stared at the water instead of the boy next to him.

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.”

“Okay, but I accept your apology nonetheless.”

“You don’t even know what I’m apologising for.” Dan stared at the water and refused to look at Phil. Refused to let his eyes drift any further than Phil’s calves in the lake, and gripped down on worn wood.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“ _Phil_.” He shoulders gave way and tears dropped into the water and onto his jean shorts. They formed perfect ringlets and tiny waves and Dan wanted them to fuck off so he wiped at his eyes. When Phil’s arms found their way around him, he let himself be pulled against his chest.

“It’s okay. Promise you.” Followed by a kiss between his curls.

They had been away all afternoon. Phil had said his parents wouldn’t mind him taking the car for a bit, so now they were in rural France, at least an hour and half away from the camping site, sitting outside of a cafe in the sun, and Dan’s shoulders relaxed in a way they hadn’t yet. 

He exhaled and played with the old film camera in his hand. He had intended to just buy a couple disposable ones, capture the summer with them, but the second-hand Canon had been _begging_ for him to buy and it and he hadn’t been able to resist in the slightest. Phil, earlier, had been well excited about it. He’d exclaimed “oh my god, you got a _film camera_ ” and made grabby hands at it to take a picture of Dan standing next to the car. 

Dan wasn’t as confident with the camera yet. If he was honest, he had no idea how to properly shoot with film other than click on the shutter and hope for the best. He hesitated, and raised it up. “Phil!” 

Phil looked at him, startled and with his coffee in hand. The shutter clicked, Phil let out a whiny “nooooo”, and Dan laughed. 

“Come on then, let me take one of you as well.” Phil reached for the camera and Dan, who couldn’t ever say no to him, let him take it and ran a hand through his curls. He didn’t even notice Phil take the photo and let out a whiny “nooooo” of his own.

The coffee was nice. Sitting on a terrace in France was nice. He’d been here before, with his parents and his brother, but he’d spend the hour moping and asking when they’d be going back to the camping site. Now, he was here with Phil and they were sharing a tray of tiny pastries. It wasn’t a date, because they weren’t _dating_ , but it was the most date-like thing Dan had ever done. And it felt like one, too. (Except he told himself it wasn’t. Even when Phil insisted he pay for the both of them or when they held hands across the table and their waiter commented that they made a lovely couple.)

They strolled through the small town and Dan paid for the ice cream they ate at the river; sitting on the bridge with their legs dangling down and their chests pressed against metal railings. They went in, eventually. The water was freezing cold; colder than the lake, and neither of them were wearing swimming trunks so by the time they got out their clothes were soaked through and people were definitely staring, but it was fine because it was summer and they were in France.

They didn’t kiss until they were back in the safety that was Phil’s parents’ car. It was clumsy and they were still shivering a little, but it was a kiss nonetheless and as cliché as it may sound, Dan didn’t need anything else to warm him up than that. Except maybe Phil’s hoodie that he grabbed from the backseat. It was too big, (“I ordered it online, but then it was an XXL instead of a large and I didn’t want to go through the hassle of sending it back, so now it just kinda lives in the car.”) but it suited him just fine to sit in solely his boxers and a hoodie that smelled like the boy next to him as they sang along to the radio.

It was during that same drive that Dan rolled down the window and let the sun touch his hand. He was content. They had turned the radio off some time ago, happy to just listen to the wheels turning over asphalt and nothing at all. With the window open, Dan could hear birds and the rushing wind he let glide through his fingers. The sun was filtering through the clouds with an orange glow, and if he was honest, the French countryside was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, right now.

“I wish today could last forever,” he sighed. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes; let his hand dangle on the open window.

“We could let it.”

Dan opened his eyes and looked at Phil sideways. “What?”

“I mean, not forever, of course, but we could just keep driving. As long as I let my parents know we haven’t crashed in the middle of the night and are gone on purpose, it should be fine.” 

Phil was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, glanced from the road to Dan and back again. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, and he raised his eyebrows at him. Dan didn’t know what to think. Technically, they could do just that. They could find a motel to stay the night and drive to another town and repeat the process for days on end. It terrified him, but exhilarated him all the same. 

“We don’t have anything with us, though,” he offered. 

He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just agree with Phil, say “fuck yes, let’s keep driving and never come back”, when that was what his heart was telling him. Maybe it was the unavoidable anger of his parents, if they even noticed him gone. Maybe it was because he felt bad towards Adrian, leaving him all alone even though they barely saw each other with Dan on the camping site anyway. Maybe it purely was not having packed anything and the thought of being this unprepared filling him with dread. Maybe.

“We can stop and buy some clean shirts and underwear.” Phil glanced at him again, and Dan was still staring. They could. And he wanted to.

“Okay.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s just fucking keep driving.” Dan’s own grin was possibly even bigger than Phil’s. The latter shook his head and smiled at him (again), and Dan thought that maybe now he fully understood what the butterflies in stomachs his classmates had always been going on about were.

“Let’s keep going, then.”

They didn’t stop driving until Phil complained about his knees hurting and Dan could feel his eyes drop with the minute. They downed cups of coffee at a deserted gas station and climbed onto the roof of the car. Phil almost fell off, but they laughed and lay down on the cool metal unscraped. Somehow, Dan didn’t even shiver. He reached for Phil, and slotted his arms around him. Usually, he liked to be held. Right now, he preferred holding Phil, preferred the weight of a head on his chest and the feeling of fingers grabbing over his. 

There weren’t any stars for them to point out, just moving clouds and a not yet completely dark sky, but they looked up anyway. Ever so often, cars would drive by on the highway, or the shop clerk would look outside at the two guys lying on top of their car, but they didn’t particularly mind. It wasn’t even like they lingered for long (even though Dan couldn’t tell how long it had actually been), just long enough for Phil to shiver and Dan to yawn.

“I like waking up next to you,” Dan said, the next morning. They were tangled together with white sheets, and he pressed a kiss to Phil’s chest. 

“You’ve done that countless of times before.” Phil squeezed his side.

“True. But not in an actual bed.”

“You have. In Manchester, remember?”

“Okay, but I haven’t woken up ‘in a motel in France next to you while running away from my parents’-next to you before.” Phil laughed. Dan could feel his chest moving with it. 

“So we’re running away now, are we?”

“Hmhm.” Dan ran his hand across Phil’s back, up and down and up again. He pressed another kiss to Phil’s chest, rested his head against it. He thought that there should be a word for how he was feeling right now. 

“We staying in bed?” Phil asked.

“Hmmm. For now.”

‘For now’ turned out to be for another two hours, as Dan fell asleep again for at least one, and him waking up turned into lazy kisses and morning blowjobs which moved to a shared shower and getting dressed in the same clothes as the day before. They checked out and drove around to find breakfast; bought fresh croissants and juice and sat in a field next to the highway. Neither of them had any idea where exactly they were, how far away or close by the camping site, but it didn’t really matter.

The nice thing about being in a foreign country, walking through cities they never even knew existed, was that no one there knew them, either. So they held hands. They kissed in public. They sat on the edge of a fountain with Phil’s hand on Dan’s thigh as Dan stared at Phil instead of the camera. They let themselves be.

They bought fresh clothes and body wash at a convenience store. They swam in lakes they passed in just their pants and let the water dry off in the sun. They danced in town squares to the sounds of someone playing the guitar. They tried traditional French dishes and didn’t like all of them. They shared cones of ice cream, because Dan insisted he was fine without one but started whining the second Phil had taken two licks. 

They watched the sunrise, multiple mornings. They watched it from the highway while driving, sat on the balcony of a motel. Dan sat between Phil’s legs and leaned against him while trying not to fall asleep (again). He wasn’t used to being awake between five and six, and he discovered that he really, _really_ didn't mind being awake between then. Nothing was happening in the world just yet. No proper traffic, no early morning coffee runs. No necessities. Nothing other than listening to the awakening birds and watching as the sky painted itself with the most beautiful palette he’d ever seen. It was peaceful, and he twined his fingers through Phil’s and let out a sigh.

They drove all the way to Montpellier and treated themselves to two nights there, in the cheapest hotel they could find with a private room, and Dan insisted on paying. He played piano at the train station, because it had a little ‘play me!’ sign taped on and Phil nudged him with his shoulder and gave him the most pleading puppy eyes. They swam in the ocean, lay down on the beach. He hadn’t been to a proper beach since he was eleven, maybe twelve, and he relished in the breeze that ran through his hair and the salt that stuck to his skin. There was sand between his toes and on the towel he and Phil were sharing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

They shared a pizza while sitting on the beach and watched the sunset as Dan lay his head on Phil’s shoulder. He stared at waves, the sea going back and forth and back and forth, crashing on sand that resembled something more mud-like, until his eyes went dry and he had to force them to stay open. He almost fell asleep, then, and after a while of them just sitting there, Phil hauled him up. He slid an arm around Dan’s waist and they walked back to their hotel room in silence. 

He kissed Phil, and didn’t give a fuck who could see them. He asked strangers if they could take photos of them kissing and took photos of Phil when he didn’t notice the camera even being there. He took a photo of the sun reflecting on the water when the light hit _just_ right and of the busy streets and of Phil’s fallen ice cream cone. He took photos, early in the morning, of messy white sheets pooling around Phil’s naked waist and of the dreamy, blissed out smile on his face. 

He kissed him, and let the camera fall onto the bed. He relished in the feeling of Phil’s hands on his thighs, pushing him down and preventing him from full on lying on top of him. In the feeling of his fingers tracing tiny circles on soft, sensitive skin as they kissed. In the feeling of not melting into the kiss, but pushing the kiss for more. In the feeling of sitting on top of Phil and yet, not being completely in control. 

His hands were on Phil’s chin, Phil’s still naked chest, and Phil’s? Phil barely moved his from Dan’s thighs, and when he did, they moved backwards. His thumbs against Dan’s hips, his fingers curled around them, not quite on his thighs, not quite on his ass, but on both and neither and the same time. He forced Dan down when he wanted to go up, wanted to take more of the control he’d had one sip of, and Dan let him break the kiss. He let Phil move from his lips to his chin and work on his neck for longer than he thought he could handle. Phil was all grazing teeth and wet lips, and Dan just tipped his head back, tangled black hair around his fingers and traced Phil’s side with his hand.

He hadn’t felt this loved, this taken care of, before. And maybe love was the wrong word for it. They weren’t in love. They weren’t dating. They were just a summer thing. A summers in France thing. But there was nothing better than this. Nothing that made him feel as happy and as wanted than making Phil laugh and making Phil smile and having Phil leave bright red hickeys all over his skin purely because he _wanted_ to. 

They lay next to each other under the sheets sharing lazy kisses with wandering hands but no further desire. They had been planning on going out, going for a swim and getting drunk off cheap wine, but there was sun shining through the window, warming Dan’s arm and shedding light on tiny dust particles flying around in the air and it was all a bit too magical to let go of. Plus, there was Phil, pressing a kiss to his jaw and moving loose curls away from his face, winding them around his fingers and letting them jump back.

“I like your curls,” he muttered.

“They refused to stay straight anymore.”

“Hm, just like you, huh?”

Dan couldn’t help it, he laughed. Paired with a drawn out “stooop”, and followed with a soft “yeah, i guess”.

He was close enough to count Phil’s barely-there freckles. His cheeks were a bit red from the sun back in Montpellier, and Dan rubbed his finger over them. He tapped his foot against Phil’s shins and slid one leg between his. Phil, on his account, had one arm slung around Dan’s waist, let his finger trace his spine without paying any mind to it. 

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“I...” _I think this is what falling in love feels like_. He sighed and averted his eyes from Phil’s. Choosing to shut them and push his head in the space underneath Phil’s chin. “I’ve never been this happy.” 

(Maybe it was love, and Dan was just too scared to admit that.)

Summer five was a dream, until it wasn’t and they got back to the camping site and Dan’s father was running up to the both of them. They’d only just parked, only just walked back onto the camping site. Dan wondered if he’d been waiting, though he couldn’t imagine him caring enough to do so.

“You can’t just go and disappear on us like that!”

“Probably not like you noticed.”

“Of course we noticed!”

“Yeah, sure you did. Tell me, how long’ve I been gone for?”

“For like a _week_ , Daniel.”

“It was a week and half, but thanks.”

“Your mother was worried sick!”

“Oh, of course she was.” Dan rolled his eyes, didn’t want to play pretend. 

“As long as you’re on holiday with _us_ , you’ll respect us and tell us where you’re spending your days!”

“Not like you’ve cared before.”

“Maybe because you weren’t running of with _guys,”_ his dad pointed at Phil, “before, getting- getting _hickeys_ all over your neck.”

“So it’s about my sexuality now?” 

“Yes- no!” His father’s face was red, and he stared at Dan.

Dan almost laughed. He was surprised by how calm he was. 

“They’re not just all over my neck, by the way.” His voice was strangled and maybe he _did_ care more than he thought he would, because there were tears streaming down his face. He could taste the salt on his lips, feel them drop from his nose and from his chin. “Hey son, did you have a nice holiday? Why don’t you tell us _all_ about it over roasted marshmallows tonight? We can pretend to be a functional family and oh- you were with a boy? That’s _lovely_ , I’m so _happy_ for you, maybe it’ll even work out as more than a summer fling; would be an _adorable_ story to tell the grandkids one day!” He gasped for air, the combination of tears and hysteria making him spit all the words out at once. “But _noooo._ You didn’t even notice me _gone_ for the first four days, didn’t even _text_ me! You just hate that I wasn’t with a _girl_ because surely- _surely_ if I’d been off to the beach with some random _girl_ , giving _her_ hickeys all over her body, you’d clap me on my shoulder, tell me ‘well done!’ and ask when you could meet her. But instead you don’t even _care_ about me. You just care about _you_ and how much you don’t like _gays_ and would do anything for your son not to be one, but guess what? God doesn’t answer your fucking prayers about that, or at least he didn’t for me.”

“ _Dan, please,_ ” his mum was crying. 

His dad was still red in his face and, Dan blinked, standing right in front of him. He hadn’t noticed him walking closer. Or maybe Dan had himself. He didn’t know, raised his eyebrows. “Please _what_.”

He walked away from his dad, then, who was yelling at him to turn around and come back because he wasn’t “finished with this conversation, son”; from his mum, who he could still hear crying; and from Phil, who he hoped so badly would follow him. He sat down at the dock right where he always sat and gripped the edges of the wood like he always did. He only felt tension slip out of his shoulders when Phil sat next to him and they stared at the water in silence, like they always did. He lay his head on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil rested his hand on his thigh.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was hesitant to talk to Phil, after that summer, because talking to Phil made him _too_ happy. Not that there was anything wrong with being happy. He craved it, craved the feeling of sunshine in his chest when he saw Phil laugh; physically ached for splayed fingers across his thigh and hands tangled in his hair and even for shoulders pressed against shoulders while they sat in silence. He wanted nothing more than to spend his days back in France, or in Manchester, or anywhere, anywhere where Phil would be. 

That wasn’t to say they didn’t talk, that they didn’t meet up. That wasn’t to say there weren’t mornings where Dan found himself waking up in a Manchester apartment under colourful sheets with cold feet pressed against his shins as a harsh reminder that he’d be missing his lectures for the day. Or nights where he and Phil walked around London, looking at the stars and Dan recounting constellations Phil had pointed out to him, before. Evenings where they went back to Dan’s halls to lie crammed together on his bed with a laptop in front of their faces and he ended up seeing more of Phil’s face than whatever movie they were watching.

Phil and his affection, his attention, just weren’t things Dan could allow to lose himself in. He would’ve liked to, but it wouldn’t be fair. Not to Phil, who could do way, _way_ better than him, like the son of the sister of his mum’s friend who had clearly been interested or some cute barista at his local Starbucks. And not to himself, because he was studying something he actually enjoyed and made him smile.

So, he studied and practiced his lines and pulled all-nighters trying to memorise his monologues. He went out with people he had, somewhere along the line, started to consider actual friends. He played piano at a pub every week, until he missed a key with a loud thud and the bartender chuckled at him and told him to “get some rest, kid”.

London wasn’t a summer in France, but it wasn’t winter in Manchester either.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sixth summer started off with Dan on a crowded bus and no phone signal, two weeks later than he’d usually be going with his family. He hadn’t talked to them much, wasn’t even sure they were going to the same camping site or not. But _he_ was, and he was with _friends_ . He could barely believe it. Him, Dan Howell, in a foreign country with _friends_ and a _smile_ on his face even when he was sitting in silence? Sixteen-year-old him would have laughed at how great of a joke that was. (Or cried, because it seemed like an impossible achievement.)

He hadn’t spoken to Phil in a couple weeks, because the camping site still sucked and didn’t have properly working Wi-Fi, and if he was honest, he was antsy. There was a pit in his stomach and a tightness in his throat he couldn’t swallow away. Next to him, Charlotte was sleeping, and two rows ahead of them he could see Tom’s bright green hair and Ciara leaning against him. He wasn’t sure how he and Phil would continue their dance this summer. If they’d even be able to.

They met again at the swings as the sun was setting. Phil was already sitting there, so Dan wordlessly started swaying back and forth on an empty swing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him, could feel his heart beating from his chest to his throat. Phil wasn’t looking at him when Dan whispered a “hey”. 

“I didn’t think you’d come...” Phil was kicking at the sand with his shoes, looking down, and Dan twisted his own swing so he was facing him. The metal clanked against itself, and he spun an extra time, just for fun.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s silly. Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” Phil turned his own swing as well, and smiled at him.

“I am,” Dan smiled, “but why did you think I wouldn’t come?”

“I mean, your parents weren’t here, and you’ve never gone on holiday this late before. And we haven’t texted in a couple weeks, even before I left, and I just. I just wasn’t sure.”

“Come now, you think I’d just not show up without even telling you? I’m supposed to be the insecure one here, not you.” He kicked at Phil’s feet and lost his balance in the process, making the swing spin around and back to its normal state. They both laughed. “I’m with friends, by the way. Would you believe it? Me, with friends?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Ciara’s planning on throwing a party tonight, down at the lake. You’ll come, right?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re there.”

“Of course I’ll be! I just have to help her set some stuff up and then I’m all yours, yeah?” He kicked at Phil’s feet again, now causing _him_ to spin around. He was about to say something else, but heard his name being called. “Fuck, that’s her. See you tonight, okay?” And with a quick kiss to the side of Phil’s mouth he was off, jogging into Ciara’s direction.

Dan wasn’t entirely sure if bonfires, loudspeakers, and more-than-generous amounts of alcohol were allowed within the camping site’s guidelines, but he’d had a couple drinks while helping to set things up and he didn’t exactly care. Charlotte was dancing with him, and he was spinning her around with a laugh and a drink in his hand when he saw Phil.

“Hey, uh, Char, I’m gonna...” He let go of her hand, and when she shot him a puzzled look, he kissed her cheek and pointed to some guys to the right of them. “I’m sure one of them’d love to dance with you.”

He wiped his right hand on his jeans, took a sip of his beer, and walked around the bonfire to where Phil was standing. 

“Hey again, you,” he smiled, “I must say, I really like the quiff.”

Phil smiled at him, and immediately ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks. So… Ciara, or, the girl you were dancing with? You’re…?” 

He didn’t meet Dan’s eyes, choosing instead to look at the sand. Dan cocked his head to the side and frowned a little. “We’re…?”

“You know...”

His stomach sunk at the realisation of what Phil was implying, and at the same time he wanted to roll his eyes. “Phil, we’re friends. You didn’t think I’d suddenly become interested in someone other than you, right? Or that I’d suddenly be into girls?”

Phil shrugged, and Dan frowned. He put down his drink and used his, now free, left hand to tilt Phil’s chin up. His right was at his waist, and his eyes were searching, not wanting Phil to look away. 

“Hey, what’s gotten into you? Did I do something wrong?” He still wasn’t meeting Dan’s eyes. “ _Phil._ ”

“It’s- it’s nothing. It’s just that, one of my friends back in Manchester, he said it was kinda stupid to be pining after some dude younger than me and probably going through ‘phases’ and that I shouldn’t be waiting for you and declining dates on the off chance it _would_ work out, somehow.”

“You did that?” Dan wanted to punch whoever this friend was, but he had honestly stopped thinking after ‘declining dates’, and now he was staring at Phil (who finally looked him in the eyes) with his mouth agape.

“I did what?” Phil blinked.

“Decline dates,” Dan whispered.

“I- yeah. I might’ve.”

“Fuck.” 

And then he kissed Phil. They stumbled a little, but his grip on Phil’s back was strong enough for them not to actually fall down, and after a couple seconds, Phil kissed him back; grabbed hold of the front of his shirt. 

A can of beer fell to the ground, but they didn’t really notice, nor did Dan notice Charlotte staring at him ( _them_ ). He just noticed how much he had missed kissing Phil and how much he liked it when his fingers ran through his hair. He noticed how Phil’s lips had a faint beer taste and yet were still the best thing he’d ever tasted and he just wanted _more_. Dan sighed, leaned back just enough for their lips to lose contact, and smiled.

“Did I already tell you I missed you?”

“Not with those words, no, but I think it’s pretty obvious.” Phil kissed him again, and Dan, aware that, despite the tens of dancing young adults surrounding them, they were making quite the spectacle out of themselves, leaned back yet again (only for Phil to chase after their kiss and to give in more than once).

They got a drink. And danced. And then they got another drink, and made out, and danced some more. They collectively laughed as someone tripped and fell into the water, and Dan smothered Phil’s laugh with a kiss and a hand on his neck. The bonfire was slowly fading, and Dan wasn’t exactly sober anymore, so he took Phil’s hand and raised an eyebrow instead of asking a question, and Phil, of course, followed him as they stumbled away from the sand and the laughter. 

Dan’s tent was almost all the way to the back of the camping, and they stumbled their way through full family set-ups, over the paths, and along barking dogs. They probably woke people up, as they were laughing and talking too loudly and there were a couple minutes where they fully started making out and giggling, but it didn’t really matter, did it? 

He tugged at Phil’s shirt when they sat down on his, frankly shitty, air mattress, and it didn’t take long for all their clothes to be discarded and for hands to start roaming where they couldn’t touch in public. It was clumsy, and at one point when Phil shifted his weight they rolled off the mattress together, but they just laughed it off and continued right there on a blanket until Dan needed his breath and moved back onto the (wobbly) air mattress. 

“I missed you too, by the way,” Phil mumbled against his stomach, following the words with a kiss. As way of replying, Dan just hummed; carded his hand through Phil’s hair as Phil moved down and down and down.

In a way, Dan preferred the silence that after brought them. He really enjoyed the way his eyes drooped and every time he opened them wide again, he would see locks of black hair. He relaxed under Phil’s big eyes and slight pout as he stared at Dan for minutes on end, and he revelled under carefully drawn constellations on his skin. They went from mole to mole and round and round until they were just circles on his shoulder and Phil’s eyes were drooping as well. He played with Phil’s hair himself, let it slide through his fingers in waves and slide his thumb across Phil’s forehead.

He didn’t know when they’d fallen asleep, or how they’d even managed to fit on the mattress together, or if Phil had ever stopped pressing lazy kisses to his chest, but he knew they must have, because next thing he knew he was squinting his eyes against harsh sunlight. His head was pounding a bit and there was way, _way_ , too much noise for the early morning, and someone was yelling (at him?).

There was still an arm around his waist and a head on his chest and sheets somewhere around covering him enough to not directly be hit with French morning air. He squinted again, and saw Ciara standing in the opening of his tent, yelling at _him_.

“-iel Howell! We have literally been here for- for not even _twelve_ _hours_ and you’ve already fucking gone and found the first boy who could give you a shag! I cannot be _lieve_ you!” 

“Morning to you, too,” he whispered. It wasn’t meant to come out as a whisper, but his throat hurt and he always had thing where speaking at a normal volume upon waking up just didn’t seem right. “Don’t yell, please. Phil’s still sleeping.” Or at least, Dan thought so. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted his breathing pattern, and hadn’t opened his eyes.

“So you at least had the decency of asking his name, then,” Ciara continued, not toning her voice down in even slightest. She put her hands in her sides- a posture that didn’t quite work its magic of being intimidating, since she was just a little over five feet tall and still bending down to be able to stand in the tent opening. 

Dan blinked at her, a little amused. “I mean, yeah, in a way.” He grinned at her.

“Ew.” She pulled a face, and Dan raised his eyebrows.

“Hm- Dan?” Phil placed his elbow right on top of his chest to prop himself up ever the slightest, and Dan flinched at the sharp contact. He looked away from Ciara to be met with blinking eyes and a mop of black hair. Phil tried to blow it upwards and out of his face and when that didn’t work, Dan softly pushed it back.

“G’morning, sleep well?”

“Yea-” a yawn, “eah.”

“Hello? I was talking to you?” 

They both looked at Ciara now, and the blanket shifted down their chests a little due to Phil propping himself up even further. His brows were furrowed slightly, and Dan found it hard to look at his friend rather than at him. The little stroke of sunlight ran across his chest and his nose into hair that had already fallen back down his face.

“It was more like yelling, but okay, go ahead.”

“Well-” She crossed her arms, looked at the both of them, and let her shoulders drop. “I don’t know. The others’ve set up breakfast, so like, when you’re _decent_ , you and your boy-toy can come join us.”

They almost fell back asleep after she’d left. Phil’s head was lying on his shoulder, now, and Dan let out a sigh. He chuckled, and Phil poked his side.

“Ciara?”

“Yeah.”

“She seems… nice.” He pressed a small kiss to Dan’s shoulder, and Dan wrapped both his arms around him in response. Positioning them so that they were now lying sideways, facing each other.

“Yeah. Bit blunt, but she’s nice,” he whispered.

They were silent for a while, Phil’s eyes drooping closed again and again, and Dan letting his thumb draw little lines on his spine. 

“Phil?” He started, again, and those drooping eyes met his and Phil smiled at him, lazy, with the sunlight that was coming into his tent running through his hair. It almost didn’t look black with the golden light and the dust particles, which kinda looked like sparkles, swimming around his head.

“Hm?”

“You know like, you’re not just a ‘boy-toy’ to me?” Dan bit down on his lip. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “What am I, then, though?” Phil was grinning a little. Dan didn’t like the smug hint in his words, the little bit of obvious confidence. (Except he did, he really, _really_ did.)

“We never really put a label on, _this_ , but you’re like, everything, Phil.”

“Hmmm,” Phil pressed a small kiss to his chin, “Do you? Want to put a label on things?”

“I… yeah, I think.” He smiled, tentatively. Phil beamed back at him, and Dan knew he’d only seen him again hours ago and that they had spent the majority of that time since, kissing, but god help him, Phil hadn’t looked _this_ kissable in a while. His hair was messy, constantly falling down, and his eyes were beaming and he was grinning and he was looking at _Dan_ as if he was the sun, and Dan pressed his lips to his, even if just for a second. “Besides,” he continued, “It’d be nice to introduce myself to that asshole of a friend of yours as your boyfriend, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” His voice was still filled with wonder. Dan’s heart ached at it, left him wondering how it was possible this boy, right in front of him, with an arm around his waist and feet against his shins, could be as in awe of Dan as Dan was of him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s possible that I’ve been kinda falling in love with you for a couple summers now.”

“Oh,” Dan whispered, and he kinda felt like crying, but he let Phil hold his face and kiss him even though he couldn’t stand morning breath after a night of drinking. He let himself melt with Phil’s touch, sighed into the kiss. 

It took a couple minutes of finding clothes and attempting to not trip over each other for them to get ‘decent’. When they did emerge and shuffle up to the little table in the middle of their three tent camp, they squinted against the bright sunlight and wordlessly moved the two leftover chairs next to each other. Dan’s three friends fell silent, three pairs of eyes watching their every move, until Charlotte gasped, exclaimed “that’s _Dan’s_ t-shirt!” and pointed at Phil. Phil, in response, just nodded and replied with an “indeed it is”, and reached over Dan’s plate to fill both their cups with coffee that wasn’t hot anymore.

He was sitting on the edge of the lake dock again, water up to his calves and sun dancing on little waves he sent forth with every move. Phil was standing ankle deep in the water, next to Dan’s friends. He was laughing, and Dan admired the view. Here he was, in _France_ , on a camping site that quite honestly, still sucked, but with his head clearer than it’d been in years, surrounded by people he cared about, and cared about him. 

“So,” came a persistent voice from beside him, and he tore his eyes away from Phil in the sun, “What’s the deal with you two?”

“Hm?” He kicked his feet back and forth and watched as Tom folded his legs underneath himself. 

“Oh, come on,” Tom nodded his head and blinked once, and it made Dan smile with just the corners of his lips. “You don’t let random hookups hang around you all day long. You don’t even _do_ random hookups.”

Dan arched his brow and looked back at Phil, over his shoulder, who waved. He waved back at him, smile growing. “Maybe I do, maybe I’m a different man in France, Tom. Maybe, if they’re really cute, I do.”

“No you wouldn’t!” Tom poked him in his stomach, pretending to make an angry face and yet, somehow, still smiling, “You wouldn’t even go out on a date with that dude from Char’s course group!”

“Ah, but a date and a hookup are two entirely different things,” Dan said, and he ran a hand through his hair; cocked his head to the side.

“This isn’t _just_ a hookup, though!” Tom insisted. “He’s still here! He’s talking to Char and Ciara! He tagged along with us no questions asked!”

“Hmm, true, true. Maybe he’s my long lost secret lover who I only ever see in France, and pine over the entire autumn and winter and spring until I get to see him again.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Sure, and I’m nominated for an Academy Award. Dream on and just ‘fess up.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit, he isn’t long lost, we’ve texted throughout the year.”

“ _Dan_.”

“What?” It was, admittedly, becoming increasingly hard to keep a straight face.

“Just tell me. Where did you meet? Was it that one time you went out without me? On Tinder? Is he just some random creep you’ve taken pity on and are you allowing him to follow you around for the day?”

“Tom. Don’t be so _stupid_.”

“ _What_?” Tom pushed his head forward and shook it a bit, he stared at Dan in a combination of utter exasperation and confusion.

“I literally already spelled it out for you.”

“Dan, come on, we both know secret lovers in France summer after summer don’t _happen_ in real life.”

“So it’s just a fantasy? I’m caught in a landslide?” Both his eyebrows were raised now, and now _he_ was the one rolling his eyes. He turned around again. “Phil?” he shouted, “Tom here wants to know when we first met?”

Phil, on hearing his name, immediately whipped his head around, and then began moving towards them. He was wading through the water, not quite walking and yet not being bothered enough to swim either. “He what?” he asked when he reached them. The water reached to just above his waist, and he put his hands on either side of Dan’s legs, reaching his thumb over Dan’s thigh. 

Dan wasn’t even sure he had noticed what he was doing, and he smiled. He looked from his thigh and Phil’s hand to Tom and then back to Phil. “Tom doesn’t believe that you’re my secret summer lover that I only ever meet in France.”

“Does he not?” Phil looked at Tom and let out a heavy sigh. “ _Tom_.”

“ _What._ ”

“He’s telling the truth, you know?”

“ _Daaaaan_ ,” Tom pouted. 

Dan actually laughed, and locked his ankles around Phil’s waist, forcing him to step closer to the dock and lay his arms around Dan.

“It’s fully up to you, mate. Either you believe us or you don’t.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Tom grumbled, and stood up. He was still staring at the two of them with a frown on his face. “Have I told you you’re weird before, Howell?”

“Only daily, my dearest Tom-who’s-refusing-to-believe-the-truth,” He replied with a smile. Tom shook his head, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Dan shrugged.

“So?” Phil ran his hands over his thighs again. Dan leaned forward, hands on the edge of the dock, and made little grabby hands, beckoning Phil to step even closer and, when he did, put his hands on his shoulders. Within seconds, big hands were on his back and he was leaning on Phil with his legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers linked loosely on his back. He rested his forehead on his shoulder, and shivered at the cold water, just for a moment.

“So,” he replied, and smiled at Phil, before pressing their lips together. He wasn’t sure if they what they were doing was even considered kissing, because he could feel his cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much (not just from now, but from since seeing Phil again last night- from since their conversation in the morning).

It was as weird as it was normal that they didn’t really spend any time apart after that. The summer consisted of bonfires until the early morning hours and Dan talking about how much he was actually enjoying his acting course. Of Mario Kart tournaments that just ended up in Dan versus Phil tournaments and Dan’s group of friends watching until they got bored. It was the summer where it rained a lot and they fell asleep listening to water hitting the canvas and they jumped over puddles in the morning to go for a shower.

It was Dan’s friends shrugging and accepting that this guy had just joined them without fully understanding, or even bothering to start to understand, their dynamics. It was Ciara laying her head in Dan’s lap when Phil got up to use the toilet and sighing, telling Dan it was her turn to have him run his fingers through her hair now, which resulted into a train of everyone lying in each other’s laps to stroke each other’s hair.

It was Phil staying for longer than he had intended to, letting his parents and his brother and his brother’s girlfriend drive back without him; with not much more than a grin on his face and the soft words of “we’re like, a thing now, mum” because the word _boyfriend_ still felt almost as foreign on his lips as it did on Dan’s. It was Dan getting hugs from Phil’s parents and Martyn telling him he better treat Phil right and Cornelia shaking her head and telling her boyfriend she was sure he would.

Dan cried a little, when Phil’s parents were gone, because the hug Phil’s mum had given him had felt warmer than any of his own mum’s hugs for the past years, past _ever_. Phil kissed his tears away and they swum in the lake fully clothed just so Dan had an excuse to kiss water off of Phil’s face, as well.

Summer six was loads of laughter mixed with cheap wine resulting into rosy cheeks Dan only realised he was staring at when Phil whispered “my eyes are up here” and Dan’s finger was halfway through the gap between them to touch said rosy cheeks. (Phil closed the gap with a smile and a kiss.)

And about a month and half later, in London, sitting in a Starbucks with his hands wrapped around a caramel latte, Dan wasn’t able to bring out a single word. He kicked his feet back and forth and back and forth until his little brother coughed.

“London’s nice,” he said, and Dan smiled at him.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You’re happier again.” It wasn’t a question, though it could have been, and the knot in Dan’s stomach unclenched itself a little.

“Yeah.”

They were silent again, and Dan knew it was his turn to speak. After all, _he_ had taken Adrian out on a little London trip to show him the apartment he was sharing with his friends for the coming year; to show him his uni campus and to attempt and bond more. They weren’t closer. Never had been. They probably never would be, either, but sometimes it was nice to pretend that maybe they could.

“Hey,” he started again, kicking at Adrian’s feet to make him look up, “Do you remember, like, before I went to uni in Manchester, that one night you crawled into my bed?” He was almost crushing his cup, and took a sip from it; forced his hands to relax.

“You told me to fuck off, yeah,” Adrian laughed, and Dan thought that this was good. 

“Well, remember when you asked me if I was so happy because of that boy in France, and if he was my- my boyfriend? And I froze up and told you to not be so stupid because obviously he wasn’t and obviously we were just friends because I was obviously not into guys?” He was talking too fast. Adrian raised his eyebrows, and Dan saw a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, like, I wasn’t lying. Because he wasn’t. Back then. But he kinda is now. Not kinda. He is. My boyfriend.”

“That’s really sweet, Dan,” was all Adrian had to say for tears to start rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare verify the sincere tone in his voice out of fear of it not matching his expression, so he started at his hands. Which were, yet again, clenching a cup of perfectly fine coffee that deserved better than this manhandling. 

It took him a couple minutes, or seconds, he wasn’t sure, to swallow away the lump in his throat, and if the pitch of his voice was higher than normal, he was sure he could blame it on a sip of too hot coffee, or something. “You think so?” 

“Yeah,” Adrian kicked his feet, and now Dan was the one looking up at him in a reflex, “really. I’m happy that you’re happy, Dan.”

“Oh.”

“Will I get to meet him soon?”

Dan stared at him. Not only had his brother not batted an eye at Dan telling him he had a boyfriend, the first time he’d ever even mentioned his attraction to boys, but he wanted to actually _meet_ Phil? He blinked, not sure how to process the last ten minutes.

“You-? Really? I mean, if you… want to.”

“Only if you want me to.” Adrian smiled at him. He probably made a better big brother to Dan than Dan had ever been to him. Or at least in this moment, he did.

“That’d… that’d be- nice.”

They didn’t speak again until leaving Starbucks, Dan’s cup still half full and thrown in the trash because, despite having told Adrian everything he wanted to tell him, it couldn’t make him get rid of the anxious feeling in his stomach.

“Dan?” 

“Yeah?” He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket and was looking at the ground, rather than Adrian, making sure he didn’t bump into anyone despite the sidewalk being empty except for them and a stray cat.

“I’m proud of you, for telling me. Thank you.”

Phil, when Dan told him Adrian wanted to meet him, had lit up. He had cradled Dan’s insecure face and kissed his pout away, smoothed out the wrinkles of brows furrowed together and told him that this was such a _good_ thing, such a huge step. Dan just wrapped his arms around him, rested his head on Phil’s chest, and stared. He was tired, but his shoulders were relaxed and Phil was playing with his curls while his other arm was wrapped around Dan, and it was a good kind of tired to be.

His eyes were drooping, and he tangled his fingers into Phil’s sweater. The sky outside was pink, blushing furiously, and Dan smiled. Today _had_ been good. He yawned. Phil moved a curl away from his forehead and replaced it with a kiss.

“Hey Dan?” he whispered. 

Dan hummed, moved his hand so that his arm was now wrapped around Phil, and pressed his head against his chest a little tighter. He could feel Phil breathing, his chest going up and down and up again; could hear the faint beat of his heart, even. He was still looking outside at the sky, and how it reflected onto his window and his white curtains. It reminded him of the the sunset in France, reflected into Phil’s glasses.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks go out to angey and nikita, for beta-ing/helping me edit this fic, and to aida, lisa, and hesandi for letting me bug you every time i wrote a couple hundred words more or was stuck, for motivating me by leaving me little comments.
> 
> i made a short playlist on youtube over the course of me writing this with songs that fit either the whole story or certain scenes no it wasn't a high effort thing but if u wanna listen: http://tiny.cc/ficplaylist
> 
> please don't hesitate to let me know what you think; i love love love reading comments and don't mind feedback and constructive criticism either ! if u want u can also follow me on twitter @/goodcliches :D


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